They said it was coming---snow at 2,500 feet. Well it came to 2,500 feet and below yesterday. They also said it was coming---70 degrees this weekend. I hope it comes to 2,500 feet and below. What a contrast that will be within a week's time---from four layers to short sleeves! I'll take it.
Most of the town's folk who have school-age children have left for the spring-vacation week. The diehards, the returning snowbirds and those who want to enjoy the one week of quiet we can count on in this town which used to wrap up in its cocoon for nine months every year are happy to be here, even with an inconvenient snowstorm. It's April, and we can expect such things.
Last night, as we dined at a Beach House Restaurant window table and watched the lake and mountain scene gradually transform into a solid silver and white backdrop, Bill recalled the April 5th thirty-two years ago when it snowed. It was another spring vacation, and we were headed to Louisiana. My folks were going to take us to the airport for our 7 a.m. flight. Back in those days, you just showed up, checked your baggage and got on the plane.
I pooh-poohed my dad's notion that we needed to leave at 4 a.m. for our flight three hours later. Pooh-poohing wasn't going to do any good because my dad didn't like to hurry, so we knew to be ready for their arrival at 4 a.m. We dressed for the southland. I wore white slacks and top and my brown and white blazer.
As we saw headlights turning from Great Northern Road starting up the driveway of our first home at the folks' upper farm, we stepped outside in the darkness to see two unwelcome sights----snow falling from the sky and a freight train parked on the railroad tracks between us and my parents' car. The snow was just spitting here and there--nothing to be concerned about, but the train---that was another story.
It was obvious the long freight had been there for a while and painfully obvious that it wasn't going to move very soon. The only convenient sight at that moment appeared as we walked down the driveway with our suitcases. The car lights on the other side showed us that we would need only to scale a flat car to get to the other side. I thought about my white slacks and how awful they were gonna look to my new Louisiana in-laws. So, for once in my life, I summoned up some rarely-used grace, climbed aboard the flatcar with Bill's help and escaped to the other side without so much as a spot on my pants.
We loaded our stuff in the trunk, and Harold started down the road. Harold never liked to drive too fast, so we knew his motive for making sure we were ready at this ungodly hour. Well, Harold had called it right that day. He had no choice but to drive very slowly and very carefully.
It took us 2 hours and 55 minutes to get to Spokane Airport that morning because as we proceeded farther south toward the I-90 freeway, the snow flakes increased and the white deposits on the roads got deeper and deeper. There was no way any car, even with a lead-foot like me, could move much past 40 mph. That was Harold's preferred speed anyway.
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally pulled up to the drop-off point, jumped out of the car into the slush, grabbed our suitcases, yelled good bye and ran. Throwing the luggage at the check-in desk and hurriedly giving the clerk our information, we then raced to the gate and threw ourselves into our assigned seats. My pants were still cooperating by remaining as white as that snow.
We flew to Dallas, then on to Alexandria. We arrived on time but without luggage. As usual, they assured us that when it arrived, our luggage would be delivered to Bill's folks' home in Oakdale. That happened two days later. Fortunate for me, Bill's sister Margaret had some jeans available, but I must say I was pretty proud of those white pants cuz I guess I looked okay to Bill's folks.
Times have certainly changed with airport travel but not the April weather surprises in North Idaho. We've got snow this morning where I've been raking lawn and preparing garden beds. But they told us it would be 70 this weekend. I'm holding them to that claim. If it comes true, this inconvenient snowfall will turn into yet another story to reminisce about the next time we have one in the future.
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